Sword of Kings
by leiasky
Summary: movieverse Who brings Aragorn the sword of his ancestors...?


Title:   Sword of Kings

Synopsis:  Who brings Aragorn the sword of his ancestors?

Rating: PG 

Spoilers: Takes place after _Return of the King_.

Pairing: Aragorn / Arwen.

Disclaimer: I'm not Tolkien. I don't own these characters. (darn!) I make no money. Done for fun.

Additional Info: Movie-verse. 

   Based on scenes from the Two Towers. 

   The rest of my stories can be found here:               

Archive: If you like, just tell me where.

**Sword of Kings**

_"Why do you linger, when there is no hope?"_

His own voice echoed in his mind like a million tiny daggers piercing his heart. The look in his daughter's eyes, in her face, as he'd come to persuade her to forsake love, nearly broke his heart. With words he never thought he'd ever hear himself say, in a tone so final it hurt to even remember them, he laid her choice bare before her.

In the end, she had caved, but Elrond knew it was not of her own free will. His words, laced with anger and selfishness, combined with the words he was certain, at his prodding, Aragorn had said, combined to drive the hope from her mind.

_"There **is still hope."**_

A tiny fragment of belief still lingered. She'd said the words with such conviction that he was almost convinced. She believed in Aragorn, and, simply because he refused to yield his daughter to a mere mortal, Elrond rejected her words, her….. hope.

His own selfish agenda kept his mind closed to any other possibilities. There _was no hope. Not for his daughter. Not for her doomed love. And there never would be. He would not yield his daughter, not to _him_, not to any __man._

Elrond winced as his mind was filled with the thoughts of how his words, convincing as he voiced them, sounded now utterly ridiculous. He stood pondering their true meaning, wondering just how deeply he could betray those he loved.

His daughter was gone. Sent away against her will to the safety of the Grey Havens. But she would not remain. The rebellion in her eyes as she'd turned to look at her father one last time, revealed her true intenstions.

Elrond walked for a time, wandered through the nearly empty halls, hearing nothing but the curse of his own thoughts and the shame of his own actions.

_"Will you let them stand alone?"_

Galadriel's voice echoed in his mind as he stared at the mural. Painted long ago, it depicted the great battle of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men in which the cursed ring of power had been cut from Sauron's hand. The very blade that had done the deed rested mere feet away, an honored heirloom of a near dead bloodline.

Elrond felt tears sting his eyes as he stared at his long-dead ancestor. The blood from that once mighty line had thinned into near nothingness, vanished into the mists of death as the sons of Numenor fell one by one to new and more powerful enemies.

And the Lord of Imladris had allowed the last son of that great line to walk out of Rivendell without so much as an honor guard to protect him. 

Elrond walked to where the sword of his foster son's line lay, broken,  a long lost heirloom of the house of Elendil. He slid his hand beneath the pommel and hefted it into the air. Moonlight glinted off the polished metal, reflecting the image of the troubled elf Lord.

_"He knows now, the quest will claim his life."_

Elrond choked back a sob as Galadriel's words rushed back to him with the rush of a flash flood racing down the serene Imladris valley.

He knew Galadriel was talking about the Ring Bearer. But Elrond also knew the double meanings etched into nearly every word the Lady of Lorien said. The quest would also claim the life of the man he'd raised as his own; The mortal who dared bring down the wrath of his foster-father in the admitting of his love for the Lord's only daughter.

The quest would kill Aragorn. He had seen to it the night he'd pressed his foster son to let his daughter go. To let her sail to the West and bear away her love for the would-be King.

With a pang of regret, Elrond realized he'd forever sealed the fate of this man he loved so deeply, and sealed the fate of his daughter along with him. If Arwen did indeed sail to the Undying Lands, she would fall to grief, and he would never see her again. Every way he looked, he lost his most precious child. All except one. A choice stood before him now….he needed only to make the one that would grant some form of happiness, if even for a short time.

Dark eyes scanned the shards that lay on the overturned shield and with resolute speed, Elrond re-placed the hilt and removed the entire pedestal.

With a determined gait, he strode with purpose through the near deserted halls of his home. Down below the beauty that was Rivendell were the smiths, the forgers, waiting for the time when they would be called upon to re-forge the Sword of Kings. Now, Their long years of waiting had finally come to an end. The moment had come. In the hour of their darkest need.

Later that evening, Rangers of Arnor arrived, bearing with them what was left of the strength of the Northern Kingdom.

"This is all we could spare, my Lord." The Captain said apologetically. The  mounted men sat in the courtyard, patiently waiting for an order to be given. They'd been bade to ride quickly for the elven haven and they were ready to act in the defense of the Lord of Rivendell. "We are spread far too thin to leave our borders unprotected in this dark time."

"It will be enough." Elrond placed a reassuring hand on the young Ranger's arm. "Be ready to leave at sunrise. Rest well. For until you reach your Chieftain, you will have little rest."

Elrond turned to his sons, who stood quietly, waiting for their father to be finished with the Ranger Captain. "Ride ahead of us. Reach Estel in time." Two stallions, readied with enough provisions, were led before the elven Lord.

Elladan nodded slowly, eyeing the Ranger Captain. "We will." The elf and his brother turned, without question, to carry out their father's command. 

"Wait." Elrond called.

The twins turned and glanced down at the item clutched tightly in their father's hands. The maid who had just brought the thing, stood next to their father, a nervous smile on her face.

"Take this to him. This will suffice until I arrive."

The twins exchanged a quickly masked look of surprise. They would not ask. Would not question their father. The reasons for his actions were his own.

 Elladan took the furled banner and clutched it tightly to his breast. "I will bear it myself."

Elrond nodded, pride shining in his eyes. "Unfurl it not, until it is time."

The twins nodded and took their leave, taking with them the remaining Dunedain.

Elrond watched his sons go and quietly, sadly walked into his chambers to wait. 

Many days later, a shadow moved slowly through the empty halls. It stopped outside the elven library, where the Lord of Imladris was pouring over old text. Parchment was scattered across his smooth desk, his face scrunched in concentration. Sensing movement, Elrond glanced up and nodded. A small smile crept onto his face as he stood and bade the man to enter.

"We have done as you command, my Lord." The elf began, holding reverently, with both hands, a covered blade. "We have re-forged the sword of Elendil."

"Thank you." Elrond took the offered blade and bowed slowly. "You have done the last duty I shall ask of you in Middle-Earth. Take your leave of this world and sail to the West. May the grace of the Valar go with you."

The sword smith nodded slowly and, for the first time in his life, questioned his Lord's actions. "You will take it to the heir of Isildur?"

"I will." Elrond answered. "It is my duty. My last act in this world. I will see to it that my…..brother-son……… has all that he needs in this coming battle."

"I will ride with you, My Lord." The smith smiled proudly. "As will all who still remain in Imladris."

Elrond smiled sadly. "I would not ask it of you. It is possible that I ride to my death."

"Then we will ride with you, My Lord. We will not let you stand alone."

Elrond nodded wordlessly to the smith. No further words were needed as the men left the elven Library.

No, he would not let the last son of Numenor stand alone.

They walked slowly toward the stables, where a host of elves waited, the Lord's horse saddled and ready to go.

Elrond smiled gratefully as his gaze passed over the gathered company.  He mounted his stallion, after safely securing the re-forged blade, and settled into the small, elven saddle. He glanced at the stars and closed his eyes. He heard her voice ring clear as crystal in his mind.

_"His war on this country will come swiftly."  
  
_

Elrond knew where he must go; where the aid of the elves would be most needed.  He turned to the gathered company.

 "Gondor is under attack. We shall raise the banners of our kingdoms together one last time."

. 


End file.
